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Ignoring my shouts, he keeps walking, climbs in a car, and drives away.
I can’t.
My breaths become unsteady.
I can’t.
My heart beats so fast, sweat beads on my skin.
I can’t.
Slumping back against the wall between the two elevators, I bend over and grab hold of my knees, gasping for air.
NoNoNoNo.
“No,” I whimper as I slide down until my ass hits the tiles. Covering my face, heartache engulfs me.
O’Brien
I’ve stopped trying to put myself back together every time I break. I’ve stopped caring about the future, about work, about anything.
I’ve stopped living. Just existing isn’t much easier, though.
I’ve somehow managed to idle through the past month, feeding off the small mercies whenever Uncle Carl gave me an update about JJ.
He said she was doing well. She was back on her feet.
That’s not what I saw. She’s not coping at all. Neither of us is.
I destroyed her.
Pulling over to the side of the road, I watch as the rest of the team disappears into traffic.
Why am I still here?
What the fuck am I doing?
I should just end it. At least JJ won’t risk walking into me. Maybe then she’ll be able to recover, knowing justice has been served for what I did to her.
Glancing down at my gun, my hand feels like lead as it slips off the steering wheel, and it takes so much fucking strength to pull the weapon from the holster. My hand slumps to my lap, my fingers barely holding the steel.
I should just do it.
One shot.
That’s all it will take then JJ can forget I ever existed.
My phone ringing has my body jerking, and I shake my head in an attempt to clear it of the darkness.
Pulling the device from my pocket, I answer, “O’Brien.” There’s no life in my voice.
“How are you holding up, son?” Uncle Carl asks.
I’m not.
I’m going to end it.
I’m sorry.
“I’m okay.” A heavy breath makes my chest shudder.
“I had to send JJ home. She wouldn’t tell me what happened but mentioned she ran into you?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
I couldn’t face her. I ran like a fucking coward.
“Nothing. I was heading out to work a case.”
Uncle Carl sighs, and I can picture him wiping a hand over his face, tired of dealing with my shit. “I’m worried, Daniel. I’ve never seen you like this. I wish you’d get counseling.”
Instantly my temper flares. “I’m not going to spill my guts to a stranger.”
“Then talk to me,” he snaps. “Talk to anyone as long as you fucking talk.”
I talk to my parents.
Just to put Uncle Carl’s mind at ease, I mutter, “I’ll talk to someone. Don’t worry.” My eyes lower to the gun. “I’m really doing okay. Work’s good.”
“Since when do you lie to me, Daniel?” he asks, his tone telling me just how much this is getting to him.
“I’ll be okay,” I try to reassure him. The line starts to beep, and glancing at my phone's screen, I see Chief Cooper’s trying to reach me. “I have another call. Talk to you later.” Ending the call, I let Chief Cooper go to voicemail then turn off the device.
After tucking the weapon back in the holster, I make a U-turn and steer the car in the direction of JJ’s house. If Uncle Carl sent her home, it means she was in one hell of a state.
I park my car opposite JJ’s house, and turning off the engine, I let my head drop back against the headrest, my eyes locked on her front door.
I’m sorry, JJ. I wish I was man enough to face you, but I’m not. Just seeing you… Christ, it guts me. What I did to you, there’s no talking our way through it. I fucking raped you. I let Rama rape you. I deserve to fucking die.
The front door opens, and JJ steps out onto the porch, her eyes locked on me. Her arms wrap around her waist, her features crumbling.
I hear her cries, her devastated wails.
Christ, even broken, she’s breathtaking.
She takes a step forward, and it has me starting the engine.
I love you so fucking much, Julie Jefferson.
Turning my attention to the road, I pull away.
I’ll always love you.
Sitting on the floor at the foot of my parents’ bed, I empty the bottle of whiskey. I’ve stopped feeling the comforting burn weeks ago, the alcohol doing little to silence my demons.
Movement catches my eye, but it takes me a good minute to turn my head in the direction of the doorway.
Uncle Carl stares at me, shock on his face. “Jesus, Daniel.” Coming into the room, he crouches in front of me and takes the empty bottle from my limp fingers. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He hooks a hand under my arm and pulls me to my feet. Unstable, I sway into him.
Setting the bottle down on my mother’s vanity, he wraps his other arm around my waist and drags me out of the room that’s become my private hell.
